


Not the Best Idea

by Skalidra



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Hangover, M/M, Massage, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-18
Updated: 2015-09-18
Packaged: 2018-04-21 08:14:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4821791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skalidra/pseuds/Skalidra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dick and Jason are living together in Bludhaven. It's a bit of a tempestuous situation, with Jason as the Red Hood and Dick with a job as part of the BCPD, but they make it work. And then, occasionally, Dick comes home to a hungover Jason. Well, terrible decisions or not, it's still his job to comfort his partner when Jason is feeling under the weather. No matter how grumpy Jason is at needing the help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not the Best Idea

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again! Another prompt for you today, this one an Anonymous request for Jason/Dick, with prompt 4, “Do you…well…I mean…I could give you a massage?” So, here is some JayDick love, with an established relationship. This is at a magical point in a timeline where Jason is the Red Hood, they're together, and Dick is still a cop in Bludhaven. I don't know. I just shoved together what I like about canon. Deal with it!
> 
> Enjoy the fluff!

Jason groaning is the first thing I hear when I step into our apartment. My eyebrow rises, and I shut and lock the door before moving to investigate. I toss my police jacket over the back of the couch as I move to the bedroom door, following the noises inside. There's a pained edge to them, not a pleasured one, though if it wasn't it definitely wouldn't be the first time that I'd walked in on Jason getting off. Usually because he knows that I'm headed home.

I'm loosening my tie as I push the door open, a bemused smile twisting my lips because whatever is going on, it's probably not that serious. If Jason had really been hurt, he would have let me know. Or someone else would have told me.

Jason's face down on the bed, beneath the sheets but naked as far as I can tell. They're pooled at his waist, and at first glance the only damage on his back is one fading bruise near his right shoulder blade that's been there for about a week. No blood on the sheets, but his right hand is clenched into the pillow and it looks a bit like he's trying to bury his head in it as well. His clothes are scattered over the floor leading up to the bed — civilian, not his Red Hood getup — which is particularly interesting because he wasn't here when I got up for work. In fact, he didn't come home at all last night, as far as I know.

I step into the room, making my footstep loud enough to catch his attention. His groan cuts off, and his head tilts enough that one blue-green eye can peer up at me with something like accusation. "Dick?" he rasps, and my eyebrow climbs a little higher at how rough his voice is. Not even just the kind of rough he usually is in the mornings, but actual 'I'm just one step shy from having lost my voice' kind of rough.

"Hey, Jason." He winces, buries his head in against the pillow again with a quieter groan, and it all clicks into focus. "Oh my god. Are you  _hungover?_ "

He grumbles something that might be, " _Fuck off_ ," and I choke back a laugh.

I move over to kneel down next to the bed, raising one hand to trace it down his closer arm. He twitches, and I have to vent how ridiculous this is somehow so I let myself grin. "You  _are_. I didn't even know you could still get hangovers. How'd you manage  _that?_ "

His head turns enough that he can glare at me, looking exhausted, in pain, and pretty murderous. "I will strangle you with that damn tie if you don't keep your voice down," he breathes out, probably trying for a snarl. "Either leave me alone or help, you  _jackass_."

I am trying  _so_ hard not to laugh. It kinds of stops me from getting out a real sentence, because I keep having to stop to choke down laughter. Not that it stops me from teasing him. "Do you… Well… I mean… I could give you a massage?" Then I lose the battle, though I at least muffle my laugh against my hand. He still swipes at me, though not with nearly enough coordination that I can't get out of the way.

"You touch me I'll  _hurt_ you," he hisses. Really, I just have to choke back more laughter at the idea of him being any kind of threat while he's like this.

I grab his clawing hand, raising it so I can press a kiss to his knuckles. He gives another snarl, but doesn't pull away. "I'll grab you some water and a couple aspirin," I promise. I kiss his knuckles one more time — a little bruised, was he fighting? — and then raise it to set it back on the bed. He grumbles, but chooses to go face down into the pillow again instead of answering me.

I get to my feet, heading for the bathroom first to snag the aspirin. Then I detour out to the kitchen to grab one of the stock of water bottles from the fridge. I head back with both items, lightly tapping his arm to grab his attention again.

"Come on, Little Wing. Water and painkillers, right here. All you've gotta do is sit up a little bit."

"I'm not  _crippled_ ," he says with a glare, reaching out to snag the aspirin from my offered hand. He swallows them dry, and then turns to grab the bottle too. He raises his head and shoulders — and nothing else — exactly enough that he can chug half the bottle down in a few quick seconds, and then shove the cap back on and drop it on our end table. I steady it before it can fall over, since I'm really not sure the cap's all the way on.

"You're pretty close," I point out, strangling back another laugh and then shifting back on my heels when he swipes at me again.

"Fuck off," he grumbles.

I take a couple steps back to give him room, and then lean against the wall so I can drag my boots off one at a time. "So how'd you get into this mess?" I ask, taking just a little bit of care to keep my voice quiet enough it probably won't hurt him too badly.

He squints at me with that one visible eye. I get to watch the anger melt into slight confusion, and then deeper bewilderment. "I— I don't remember." He squints a little more, and then ventures, "Titans?" I can't help the sharp snort, even as I set my first boot down. "Shut the fuck up, Goldie. It's not funny."

"It's pretty funny," I say with a grin, starting on the second boot. "You want to check your phone, or should I?"

He groans, mutters a, "Fuck," and then turns his squinted eye towards the end table. "I'd have to find it first. Shit, what happened?"

I aim the grin at him. "You weren't here when I left for work at seven, and last I saw you was  _last_ morning when you grumbled a goodbye as I left for work. I'd bet it's probably something I should be arresting you for, if you got blackout drunk with the  _Titans_. Want me to read you your rights, Jason?"

He snarls at me. "Fuck you,  _Officer Grayson_."

"You don't  _really_ want me to take you up on that, do you?"

He grumbles again, shoves his face into the pillow, and then draws back with a pained hiss. "Shit, I think somebody punched me." He turns onto his side, and I watch him raise his left hand up to poke at that side of his face.

I can't help the burst of laughter, and I cover my mouth as he glares up at me. "Jesus, Jason." I move closer, sitting back down next to him and reaching down to tilt his head up towards me. "You've got a black eye," I tell him, very gently swiping my thumb across the bruised skin.

He winces, and then closes his eyes and eases into my hand. His hand rises to comb back through his hair — which looks stiff, like there's some kind of product in it — and he grimaces. "You've gotta be fucking kidding me."

I take a closer look at it, as I tug my tie loose with my opposite hand and drop it to the floor. "It's not that bad. Swelling's already gone down, so it was probably either pretty early yesterday, or not that much force. You're going to be extra handsome the next few days though."

I draw my hand back so I can tug my shirt out from in the slacks, and then get to work on the buttons. Jason is staring up at me, idly watching even though he looks kind of far away. Kind of pensive too, which worries me a little bit. I get the cuffs on the shirt undone, and then shrug it off my shoulders. It doesn't get a reaction from him, apart from a small flick of his gaze to follow it as I drop it to the floor.

"Hey," I murmur, lowering my hand to brush his cheek. "Soon as you're past feeling like death warmed over, we'll take a look through your phone and piece things together, alright?" He scowls a little bit, and I lean down to press a kiss to his forehead. That gets me a grumble. "You'll do better work when you feel better, Jason. You might remember some of it too. Want me to grab you a pen and piece of paper, so you can scribble down any random memories?"

He debates for a second, and then shifts his head in a small nod. So I dig into the pockets of my slacks and produce my tiny notepad and pen. He looks a little dubiously at the items as I set them down on the end table, and grab the water. "You just carry those around?"

"Comes in handy," I explain, pushing the water into his hand. "Finish that for me?"

He rolls his eyes, but then winces and tips his head in acknowledgement. I get to my feet, fishing my phone out of my pocket before I get out of my pants. I leave them on the floor — I'll have to clean all this up later anyway — and set my phone on the end table. He drops the empty water bottle to the floor, and I circle the bed to climb in on the other side. He rolls mostly onto his stomach, giving another small groan and circling both arms underneath his pillow. Apparently the black eye isn't enough of a deterrent to give up burying his face against the fabric.

I give a soft smile, and then run my gaze down his back. Actually, my teasing might not be such a bad idea.

He squirms when I swing my leg over his thighs, settling down on his ass. "Dick?" he growls. Muffled, but understandable and threatening.

"Relax," I murmur, leaning forward so I can get my hands on his skin. I dig my thumbs in on either side of his spine, pushing them upwards. He arches down a bit, and gives half of a snarl.

"Dick, get—"

My hands reach the base of his skull, and he cuts off. I rub my thumbs into the nearly solid muscle in his neck for a few moments, and then slide my hands higher to massage his scalp. He moans, and I allow myself a grin. I can feel him relaxing underneath my touch, and I stay focused on his scalp for a minute or so more before easing down to his neck. That gets me a slightly louder moan.

"Well, whatever you did it fucked you up pretty badly," I comment. "Nothing actually injured, as far as I can tell, but you're pretty stiff."

He shifts up towards me, though he doesn't actually raise his head from the pillow at all. "How do you know how to do that?" he asks, sounding just a little breathless.

I give a soft laugh, shifting down onto his shoulders. "Babs and Cass," I confess. "Babs wanted massages while we were together, so I learned. Then Cass saw me rubbing Babs shoulders once and came over to tell me I was only doing it sort of right. Knowledge of pressure points and musculature helps apparently, and Babs was happy to be the test subject for Cass refining my skills."

"And you've been  _hiding_ this from me?" His disbelieving accusation is just loud enough for me to understand. I smile, pushing my thumbs down into a particularly stubborn knot right underneath his shoulder blade. "Fuck,  _ow_."

"Mmhmm," I agree. "Relax. If it hurts then I'm fixing something. I'm just going to work out your shoulders for right now, alright?" He makes some kind of confirming noise. I work on that knot for another few minutes, and then quietly admit, "I wasn't sure you'd like it." I could voice all my little reasons, the biggest of which is that I had to warm Jason up to letting me be at his back at all and it took awhile, but I choose to let my admission end there.

He's quiet for a few seconds, almost enough that I think he might have fallen asleep before I said anything, and then he curves up into my hand a little bit. "You can do this whenever you want," he murmurs, his head lifting and twisting enough that the words are unobscured. He's looking up at me, totally serious, and I give a soft smile in response.

"Yeah?"

His mouth twists in a slightly strained looking smile, and I slide my hands back up to work at the base of his skull again. It should help some with the headache. "Yeah," he echoes, then gives a soft groan under the touch of my fingers. "That feels so  _fucking_ good, Dick." His eyes flutter closed, mouth parting in clear pleasure. Then his right shoulder rolls as he draws his arm down, grasping blindly until his fingers find my leg. He squeezes my thigh, eyes still closed, and adds, "Know what touch means to you. Whenever you want, promise."

My smile brightens, and I pause my hands just long enough that I can lean down and press a kiss to the back of his shoulder. "Love you too, Jason."

He gives a grumble, but I recognize it as one that's totally for show. I slide my hands down, and that knot finally relaxes a bit underneath the first dig of my thumbs. I count that as victory enough for now. I slide off of him and get beneath the covers, reaching over to drag my pillow a little closer. He doesn't even shift, and I smile as I reach out to run my fingers up his spine, following it from the edge of the sheet all the way up to his skull.

"This good to sleep, or do you want to move?" I ask, lightly running my fingers through his hair. Jason doesn't usually like to be on his stomach, at least not with someone else leaning weight on him.

True to form, after a second he moves, pushing up. Only as far as his side though, and then he gropes backwards until I raise my hand for him to catch. I get one rumble of satisfaction, and he pulls me up against his back and draws my hand up to his chest, slightly curling around it. Warmth makes a home in my chest, and I let him draw me into him, pressing my mouth to the back of his neck. I do tug my hand free of his — a sleepy, unhappy noise follows that — so I can reach down and grab the sheets though. I draw them up over our shoulders, and then worm my hand down underneath his arm so he can wrap his fingers back around it.

"Sleep well," I whisper, into the back of his neck.

His hand squeezes mine, though he doesn't verbally respond. I smile, and close my eyes to relax into the warmth of his skin. Jason might not be the most vocal of people, but he speaks in other ways. Like trusting me at his back while he's sleeping, or letting me see him when he's this messed up. That's more than enough for me.


End file.
